


Christmas Cookies

by Hisa_Ai



Series: 31 Days of Christmas [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of fic, AU, Arthur tries to bake, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas prompts, Day 8, M/M, Modern Day, Prompt Fic, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hisa_Ai/pseuds/Hisa_Ai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it doesn't seem that Merlin's going to keep a very important promise he made, Arthur decides to take matters into his own hands, and the results are anything but what he was hoping for. Is it any wonder Merlin doesn't leave him alone in the kitchen often?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Cookies

* * *

 

"But  _Mer_ lin, you promised!" Arthur whined, blocking the front door as Merlin stood in front of him, rolling his eyes as he shifted on his feet, looking exasperated. He was bundled up in his winter coat, his favorite scarf, and some earmuffs, all ready to go out for the afternoon, though he was  _supposed_  to stay at home all day with Arthur and stick to a certain promise he'd made earlier that week. But then he had gotten a call from Gwen and decided that Arthur and  _his_  needs could wait so he could go off and do more important things, things that were apparently more worth his time than Arthur was.

"Stop being such a baby," Merlin sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"You  _promised_." Arthur repeated stubbornly, crossing his arms in front of him.

"And I will keep my promise," he said. " _After_  I get back from helping Gwen," he insisted.

Arthur made a noise. He knew he was acting like a stubborn child, but Merlin  _had_  promised to do this for him—this  _one_   _thing_  that would make him happier than anything else in the world. He had  _promised_ , and Arthur was going to keep him to his promise if it was the last thing he did.

"Why do you need to help Guinevere with anything? Isn't that why she married Lance?"

"Yes, but he's out of town for the weekend, which you already  _knew_ ,"

"But why—"

" _Arthur_ , I already said I would help her, so I'm going. I will make you your Christmas cookies once I get back, all right? It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to get everything done. Surely you can wait that long?" he asked rhetorically, as though he was really giving him the option of saying no.

"But you said you'd make them for me  _before_  you agreed to help Guinevere with… whatever it is you're helping her with." Arthur huffed, not quite recalling the specifics of what Merlin was needed for. Something about getting ready for a party or shoveling snow or something?

"She needs me to teach her how to give a proper blowjob, remember? Lance is always complaining about her technique, and you're always bragging, so she figured who better for the job; Gwaine volunteered to be the guinea pig—don't mind, do you?" Merlin teased. Arthur just rolled his eyes. He was promised cookies, damnit, and no amount of sexual humor was going to get Merlin out of making them for him.

" _Mer_ lin…"

"Arthur, you'll get your cookies later, I promise. See you when I get back. Try not to burn the house down while I'm gone. Love you." He pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then moved around him and out the door before Arthur could stop him.

With a scowl on his face, Arthur walked over to the couch and slumped down, arms crossed as he stared at whatever was flitting across the television screen.

It wasn't  _fair!_

Merlin had  _promised_  to make him Christmas cookies! And then he just up and goes to help Guinevere with  _her_  problem and doesn't even stop to think how it would affect Arthur and  _his_  plans for the day? Ugh, he was so mad!

If that was the way Merlin wanted to be, maybe Arthur didn't need him to make him cookies after all. He was an adult, after all, with a fully stocked and functioning kitchen—what was to stop him from making his own cookies?

Yes, he would make them himself and they would be ten times better than Merlin's cookies, and then Merlin would be upset that he had been upstaged all because he couldn't just keep one stupid promise.

With a firm resolve, Arthur wandered into the kitchen, flicked on the lights and pulled up a cookie recipe on his laptop. He was pretty sure they had everything that they needed—Merlin had been planning on making cookies at some point, after all—so he went about and pulled out bowls and spoons and a cookie sheet and of course cookie cutters in the shapes of Santa and angels and various other Christmas-y shapes and everything else he would need.

He checked all the ingredients against the list on his computer. Butter, flour, sugar, baking soda, vanilla, chocolate chips, salt, eggs, brown sugar—ah,  _crap_ , no brown sugar. Hmm, but what was brown sugar, really? Just sugar that was…  _brown_. He would just use twice as much regular sugar, but, ah, they were almost out of sugar, anyway. No problem then, he would make up for it with extra salt and flour and baking soda. It would all balance itself out, he was sure.

So he set about mixing the ingredients according to the instructions and his own agenda and then had the dough—which looked  _nothing_  like the dough Merlin usually had by that point—spread out on the counter and used the cookie cutters to place oddly shaped pieces of dough onto the cookie sheet.

Satisfied that they would turn out all right, he slipped them into the oven—was he supposed to preheat it? Ah, who cares, it'd get hot soon enough—and then went back to the living room and the couch. He flipped the channel and landed on the Christmas special of one of his favorite shows and soon forgot all about the cookies in the oven.

Until he smelled something…  _burning._

"Fuck!" he jumped up and ran into the kitchen, grabbed the oven mitts from the counter and yanked the oven open, pulled the cookie sheet from inside and placed it on the table.

_Damnit!_

How was he going to show Merlin up with a pile of  _burnt_  cookies? That would just prove Merlin's point that he shouldn't be left alone in the kitchen for an extended period of time, like he was a child or something. He might burn something, or, worse yet, burn the  _house_   _down_. And yeah, burning the house down would be crappy, but worse than that would be the "I told you so" moments that came every day after that for the rest of their lives. Burning their house down was not something Merlin was likely to let Arthur forget, after all.

Staring down at the cookies longingly, Arthur sighed and picked one up, maybe they tasted better than they— _Nope._  He spit a mouthful of burnt cookie out. If anything they tasted  _worse_  than they look. And Arthur didn't see how that was possible.

And he  _really_  wanted cookies, too…

With a groan of defeat, he dropped the half-eaten cookie, turned the oven off and left the cookies on the table. There was a bakery just around the corner that happened to have  _fantastic_  cookies this time of year—not quite as good as Merlin's were, but he would take what he could get right now—and he was going to get some  _now_.

Within a half-hour, he had been to the bakery and back and had two dozen of those warm, gooey,  _delicious_  Christmas cookies in a container that he promptly transferred to a plate for easier access.

Settled in on the couch with the plate, a glass of milk, and a new TV show, Arthur sunk down when the door flew open not ten seconds later. He had cut it close, but at least Merlin would never know of his little cooking mishap. As long as Merlin never knew about the failed batch of cookies, Arthur would be  _fine._

"Arthur, what is that  _smell?"_ Merlin wrinkled his nose as he hung up his coat near the door and walked into the living room. Arthur cleared his throat, shrugged his shoulders.

"Dunno. Cookie?" he held the plate of cookies out to him absentmindedly, not taking his eyes off the TV in an attempt to seem casual.

"Did you make cookies?" he asked suspiciously, glancing around as he took one off the plate and plopped down next to him on the couch. Arthur didn't say anything, not wanting to lie to him, but still…

"Mmm, no. No way you made these," Merlin said when he bit into one. Arthur gave him a look, raised his eyebrow at him curiously as he took the cup of milk from between his legs. "They're much too good to be something you made." He explained after taking a sip. "I'm pretty sure you'd sooner burn the house down than make something this amazing. These must be from Mithians's, right?" he asked, leaning back on the couch. Arthur just nodded, taking a bite from another cookie in an attempt to keep his mouth full and shut.

"Are you still mad at me?" Merlin sighed, picking up the remote and muting the television. Arthur made a vague sound, not quite mad, more like… worried Merlin would find out what had happened while he was gone. He'd forgotten to air out the house, so it still smelled like something had been burnt, but he'd washed the dishes, put the ingredients and everything else back in its right place, threw out all evidence of him—

Oh fuck. Fuck fuck  _fuck_. He'd left the cookies—the burned proof of his incompetence in the kitchen—on the kitchen table. He had been in such a hurry, so anxious to have some  _good_ cookies, that he'd forgotten to throw out the bad ones. Damn, okay, if he could just get to the kitchen before Merlin, he could throw them out and Merlin would never—

"Well," Merlin sighed then, finishing off the milk and setting the glass down on the table in front of them. "I'm home now, and I know Mithian's cookies are way better than mine, but I can still make you some. I did promise, after all." He stood up, about to walk to the kitchen.

Panicking, Arthur reached out and grabbed his hand, pulled him back to the couch. He moved the cookies and yanked Merlin down, pressing him into Arthur with a deep kiss. Merlin sighed against him, probably thinking that he was forgiven—though they were  _so_ past the point of forgiveness, Arthur knew—but Arthur just needed a minute to think of a plan. He had to keep Merlin out of the kitchen, had to get in there alone for at least a minute before he could let Merlin in there. Only once he got rid of the cookies in there would it be safe for him to let Merlin in there.

But not before then.

"Mmm, what was that for?"

"I… I was a prat earlier, and I'm sorry…" Arthur said, grasping at straws. "I know Gwen's our friend and you were just doing what you always do: helping your friends. You—you just like to  _help_  people. It's a good quality to have and one of the many things I love about you. So… just…  _sit_. Right here. With me. Watch TV, eat cookies, don't worry about making me anything. Think of it as my way of making up for my behavior earlier," he smiled, hoping he would just accept that answer and do as Arthur suggested.

Merlin gave him a skeptical look, "You  _do_  know I was just joking about that blowjob thing earlier?"

"Yes,  _Mer_ lin, I do know what a joke is," Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin looked at him for a moment longer but then, much to Arthur's relief, just shrugged and sat back on the couch, picked up another cookie and watched some program with him in silence for a while.

After some time, Merlin stood to his feet. "I'll be right back," he said, taking the empty milk glass and heading towards the kitchen.

Before Arthur could even remember why he'd been trying to keep Merlin from the kitchen in the first place, he heard him cursing and then, " _Arthur!_  What did you  _do?"_

 

 

* * *

 


End file.
